


vamos

by v3ilfire



Series: champagne pouring over us [2]
Category: Saints Row
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-30 23:14:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8553412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/v3ilfire/pseuds/v3ilfire
Summary: “That’s all Pierce. Says he’s taking out his ‘creative energy’ on our ‘business model.’” The air quotes explained the situation better than Pierce ever did, anyway. “Got Shaundi some god damn dating show.”“I think it’s you more than Pierce.”“I got Shaundi a dating show?”“What? No. I mean everything else.”





	

Johnny could deny it all he wanted but at this point, Lucia had documented scientific proof that she played Fruit Smash one hundred times better if she was lying upside-down on the couch with her feet kicked over the back. There was probably some nerdy-ass reason for it, but she didn’t give a shit what it was as long as it got her past level 76.  
“Are you still playing that fucking game?” Lucia elbowed his thigh without looking.  
“Hush, _vaquero,_ I’ve been stuck here since Tuesday.” She was so _fucking close_ she could taste it. Just a few more multipliers and she could move to the next level of hell, but damn would it feel good to be there after four days and it would shut that stupid bug-eyed monkey up for a few _god damn seconds_. She was so close she didn’t even look up when a pair of heels clicked down the stairs and stopped just a few feet short of the couch, just assumed it was Shaundi and didn’t bother with a greeting.

It was, however, not Shaundi. “Uh. Boss?” Most likely one of the new girls, but the monkey took priority over finding out.  
“That’s me.”  
“I don’t mean to be a snitch or nothin’, but one of the other girls told me that if I had a problem, I should go right to you.”   
“Sure,” she said, only half listening. “ _Que paso?_ ”    
A pause. “One of ya new scrubs was getting grabby.” Lucia’s fingers grew suddenly still, and the monkey took it upon himself to laugh at her impending fruity doom.  
“Which one?”  
“Frankie, or whatever. Little guy, dark hair, thinks he’s hot shit.” Frankie. _Frankie_ . Lucia left recruiting up to Johnny and Shaundi, especially now that Pierce was so busy signing their lives away to about twenty different marketing schemes a day, so new faces popped up all the time and she was never really good at names. Her only rule was that the lieutenants made sure that _all_ of the new blood knew how the Saints ran shit and no one had ever gone against that before, which just meant that this Frankie guy crossed the line knowing exactly where it was.

And that wouldn’t fly.

Lucia braced her legs against the couch and pushed back to flip right onto her feet. She pocketed her phone, doing her best to ignore the cartoon laughter taunting her for losing _again,_ and instead pulled out her wallet.  
“What’s your name?” she said, rifling through bills. The girl was definitely new because she looked like she thought Lucia was gonna somehow pull a fucking gun out of there.   
“Sasha.”   
“Okay, Sasha. Take the rest of the day off. Where does this fucker hang out?”  
Sasha stuffed the bills into her bra without counting them, definitely far more relaxed than just a second ago. “Stilwater U. He slings there.”   
“Perfect. Ready Johnny?”   
“Yep.”   
“ _Vamos_.”

 

* * *

 

 

Pierce had put so much new shit on Lucia’s phone that she almost fucking forgot how to use the camera app in time to catch what was, in her opinion, the most iconic ‘Johnny Gat beating a punk-ass bitch’ shot of the year. Not only did she get the perfect moment of beautiful fist-to-face impact, but later she realized that she managed to capture a stray tooth mid-air, halfway through its journey out of Frankie’s face and onto the ground. Johnny was a third of his way through a pizza by the time she remembered where Pierce wanted her to upload shit like that and picked the perfect filter to really emphasize the tooth’s perfect flight.   
“This pizza’s too fucking fancy for its own good,” he said, though judging by the fact that he had vacuumed most of it into his mouth, that wasn’t really a problem.  
“You don’t like it, you can go to Freckle Bitch’s by yourself next time and choke on a fun bag.”   
“Since when do you have a problem with Freckle Bitch’s?”   
“I don’t, I’m just craving a fun bag. Isn’t this a sick fucking shot?”

Johnny slid her phone closer, careful not to get pizza grease all over it mostly to avoid Lucia’s complaining. “When did you put that up?”  
“Like ten seconds ago,” she said, finally free to devote her full attention to her lunch. Lucky she was wearing sunglasses or Johnny’d catch her tearing up over the best damn parmesan fries on the continent.   
“Jesus fucking Christ, people are already all over it.” Lucia had been ready with a napkin when Johnny pushed the phone back, looking visibly surprised that she didn’t need to give it a mid-day rubdown.  
“That’s all Pierce. Says he’s taking out his ‘creative energy’ on our ‘business model.’” The air quotes explained the situation better than Pierce ever did, anyway. “Got Shaundi some god damn dating show.”  
“I think it’s you more than Pierce.”  
“I got Shaundi a dating show?”   
“What? No. I mean everything else.” Lucia leaned her head down far enough to stare at him over her aviators. “Hey, don’t give me that look. It’s true. If not for you we’d still be playing youth group with Julius.”

There was an element of truth there that Lucia didn’t like to think about or admit to, mostly because she was still fucking _pissed_ that Julius dragged her into this shit and then tried to blow her up when she got too good at it. “You could do this just as well as me, _vaquero_ .”   
“Nah. I’m just here to fuck some shit up. You’re Santa fucking Lucia. The Saints fell apart without you when Julius decided to play cop. You don’t leave people behind, and when someone does get hurt you raise hell in their name.”   
“Johnny -”   
“Listen, I know what I know, and I know that you just dragged me on a hunt to beat some asshole because he got handsy. Don’t get me wrong, it was fun, but. You saved my ass twice before. You don’t forget when someone does shit like that for you. Bet you Sasha won’t either.”

Lucia hated his sentimental moods. _Hated_ them. She never fucking knew how to deal with that level of honesty or, as of late, that fucked up tightness in her chest. She’d rather he catch her crying over fries than in the crossfire of things she didn’t have time to sit down and fully process. Two years of running Stilwater and she still felt like some dumbass kid sweeping up a garage for her _papi_. “Anyway,” he said when she couldn’t find the words, “Are you gonna finish that?”

Her voice cracked when she said no, and she replayed that moment in her head the entire ride back to the crib.

By the time Johnny found his way back she was already in her ideal Fruit Smash position, still wearing her shades for equal parts good luck and shielding. He flopped down next to her without so much as a greeting, hand on bloated stomach, and if Lucia didn’t know better she figured he was already halfway to a food coma and it was a miracle he made it back in the first place. Part of her wished there was someone else in that damp fucking basement with them, _anyone_ else to break the weird silence of her storming out on a compliment, but there wasn’t, and Johnny sure as hell wasn’t gonna say anything to her because he knew her better than that. He understood shit _she_ didn’t understand about herself.

Without taking her eyes off the screen, Lucia scoot her upper body just enough to prop her head up on his thigh.   
“Sorry for ditching.” In response, Johnny slumped onto her legs and crossed his arms, wriggling into the most comfortable position for a nap. Just like she thought.  “And, uh. Thanks.”  
“No problem. Those were some bomb-ass fries.”   
“How fucked up is it that I still want a fun bag?”   
“Hell yeah. I could go for a fun bag.” Lucia snorted, and for a while after that the only sounds between them were Lucia’s acrylics clicking on her phone screen and Johnny’s half-snoring. Everything was so suddenly _okay_ that she couldn’t piece together why she even booked it out of an otherwise normal lunch in the first place.

Well, she knew why, but that was a fucked up box of feelings she wouldn’t be ready to crack open for a long time yet.

The one good thing about that god damn snickering monkey was that he quickly took her mind away from all of… that. He was taunting her again because she was running out of kiwi because _of course she was_ , but if she could hold out just a little longer for the multiplier…

Lucia slammed her hand on Johnny’s chest so hard he actually woke up. “What? What happened?”  
“I fucking _won_.”  
“Fuck yeah.” He put his hand out for a high five and she met him in full force, but as soon as she resolved to get up she found her legs pinned under Johnny Gat’s full weight again. Payback for waking him up. That shit-eating grin told her as much.

Now, in all fairness, Pierce had _tried_ to explain to both Lucia and Johnny how the Saints group messages worked, but sometimes it was hard to tell who was the worse with technology. So, it _definitely_ wasn’t his fault that half their whole crew, himself included, had a photo of the boss and the right hand passed out in the middle of the crib set as their phone backgrounds by the end of the day. The will-they-won’t-they pool, however, he’d take full credit for.


End file.
